Devoid Of Pity
Cowering in the shadow of fear,
you count every sorrow, tear by tear.
And surrender to life's ugly side,
unwittingly letting evil slide.
Bullets rip through the fabric of lies
while somewhere, somehow, somebody dies.
For drugs and guns, paint the hood in blood:
stains of youth, lying dead in the mud.
With the curtains drawn completely tight,
the streets are left to the ghosts of Night.
And doors get locked; deadbolts in place,
while pride vanishes: without a trace.
Needles and condoms litter the park,
where addicts and whores stake out the dark.
And children live under house arrest:
hidden from monsters, out to molest.
Shooting a gun's a juvenile thrill,
unafraid of the law; youngsters kill.
And death runs rampant in the City,
where life's cheap and devoid of pity.
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